


Home

by honeycomb95



Series: Sylvix Week 2019 [3]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: DimIngrid, Drabble, Felix tries his best, Freeform, M/M, Modern AU, Not Beta Read, Sylvain is supportive, Sylvix Week 2019, Train journey, Travel, gasp and they were boyfriends, idk the Dimitri/Ingrid ship name, soft boys take a trip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-17 08:10:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21051128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeycomb95/pseuds/honeycomb95
Summary: Home is where the heart is, but Felix takes a train ride back to the place they'd called so growing up.Written for Sylvix week. Day 3:Modern AU/ Fairytales / Letters





	Home

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure how I managed to write a train station as if i'm an alien _pretending_ to have seen a train station but here we are lads.

It was raining in the train station car park, because of _course_ it was raining in the train station car park. The second they'd stepped out of Sylvain's beat up truck whatever asshat that controls the weather must have figured _“hey, these two look like the could use a good soaking”_ and opened the heavens above them. Goddess forbid they should leave for a long overdue trip back 'home' and the weather should actually stay dry. Not that Felix was complaining as such, the rain didn't put his mood up nor down because it's not like he was gonna have a particularly good time regardless. He'd chosen to leave their poxy little hometown behind for a reason, you know. Sylvain, however, was having far too much fun - of the loud and very_ verbal_ kind - for this early in the morning and Felix was nowhere near caffeinated enough to deal with him babbling something or other about seeing old friends as they wandered into the old stone building.

The station was just as packed as the last time he'd visited: bustling and anonymous with travelers of business and leisure alike milling around at various levels of urgency through the building proper. Travelers-to-be were speckled here and there; languid as cats across the cold, perforated iron benches that had been bolted to the floor in the center of the wide open waiting area. Thankfully the return tickets clutched slightly too tightly in Felix's hand served as a reassuring reminder that they weren't going to have to mingle with the shambling, biding masses today. A welcome thought when merely the concept of travel itself made him uneasy, no need to add the unpredictability of a room full of sharp eyed strangers to the mix.

Finding and boarding their train was easy enough, safely stowing their luggage was a piece of cake and squeezing their asses down onto the worn out fabric of their seats was practically child's play. The bass rumble of the running train that bounced inside of Felix's frontal lobe like a busted pinball machine, however? An absolute nightmare. He tugs impatiently at the still damn collar of his fitted turtleneck. Someone had better caffeinate him within the next six minutes or he might genuinely consider turning the crying toddler three rows down into an overweight snotty pin cushion.

His salvation came in the form of an eye rolling-ly cheery attendant, who's refreshment trolley that trundled down the aisle in front of her had not one, but _two _wobbly wheels. The way she counter-balanced the drunken cart effortlessly with every second step told Felix that she clearly does this - what must be an absolute ball-ache of a routine - on the regular, and colour him mildly impressed.

When the attendant - who's trying her best not to miss anyone as she makes her rounds - _finally _stops in front of them, she doesn't even have time to open her mouth before Felix barks (none too politely) that they'd take two large black coffees, no sugar. The subsequent cardboard cups are shoved rather unceremoniously onto the cramped train table with an scrape and a _clunk, _and when some of the scalding hot liquid spits out of the mouthpiece narrowly missing his lap Felix thinks _maybe_ he could have been a little nicer to the poor woman. She's probably far too underpaid to put up with him and his withdrawal bullshit.

“What the hell Fe, you know I don't drink coffee?” Sylvain seems mildly confused when he picks up the drink gingerly, almost as if he's afraid it's going to bite him. Felix thinks he'd rather like to see that.

“I know, they're both mine.” He takes his first glorious sip of not so glorious train coffee.

“Dude, if you drink both of these I'm going to have to peel you off the carriage ceiling later.”

Felix shoots a glare to his left. “What do you take me for? I'll have you know I'm a seasoned caffeine pro at this point.”

“Yeah? Well you're gonna be a strung out caffeine _ho_ if you don't slow it down a bit.” Sylvain's eyes crinkle as he laughs unabashedly at his own joke, even Felix cracks a smile.

The little scenery that can be glimpsed through the smudged glass of the train window becomes less of an urban blur and more of an expansive nothingness the farther north they go. The passengers fluctuate at every increasingly sparse stop and station (good riddance, Snot Kid) and the once densely packed carriage begins to gradually thin as the hours pass. By the time Felix has fully relaxed into the uncomfortable barely padded seat underneath him it's late afternoon and his ass is most _definitely_ numb. There's an irony in that somewhere. By this point Sylvain's familiar chatter had stopped, the taller man's head drooped onto his shoulder as he snores. Felix finds himself wondering if the man was ever quiet. He won't complain though; because although Sylvain is just a loud mouthed idiot by nature, Felix knows that he makes an extra effort to talk so much on journeys because it always helps to settle his nerves.

And nervous he was, as much as the admission made him want to eject this morning's coffee all over the goddamn floor. He hadn't been 'home' in a good few years, hadn't had a reason to visit somewhere that held nothing for him. Besides Sylvain always filled him in on any local gossip that made it's way down south no matter how many times he insisted that it of it was never of interest to him. He didn't give a fuck if _what's-his-name _finally got married or if _so-and-so_ got caught banging his ex wife's new boyfriend.

But this time is different. As the train shudders to a halt at the station he spent so much time in as a teen trying to escape from the suffocating _emptiness_, the nostalgia grips him by the gut. He shakes Sylvain awake, none too gently much to the latter's chagrin who's bleary eyed as he wipes the drool from the corner of his mouth. Ugh gross, he better not have drooled all over him. Felix swears if it wasn't for the fact that he loved this idiot man he'd have murdered him twice over - and that's only today.

His legs feel like jelly as he steps onto the platform, partly from anxiety and partly due to the fact that he still can't feel his goddamn ass. Sylvain laces an arm round his waist and gives him a reassuring squeeze as they walk out into the chill of the October air; as always he somehow knows when Felix needs a little extra support.

Dimitri is up and out from his seat on the station bench the second he sees them, his barely contained excitement rather like a big golden retriever thumping the ground with his tail. Sylvain grins at him as he clasps his hand and pulls him in for a bro hug. Felix had never been the touchy feely sort and as such settled for nodding his head in greeting when Dimitri turned those puppy dog eyes on him.

It takes him a second to notice Ingrid. Dimitri's massive frame had blocked his view, but as his childhood friend steps into sight he doesn't have time to filter the words that fly from his mouth when his eyes land on the tiny bundle in her arms.

“Holy shit.”

“_Felix!_”

“Wait, shit, sorry I mean _fu-_” Sylvain claps a hand over his mouth and in this one instance Felix is glad he's been literally shut up. He can feel the heat rising in his cheeks.

The baby stirs in Ingrid's arms and Dimitri reflexively moves to soothe the child. It made no sense to him but for some reason the sight of his two oldest friends cooing over the result of their love set fire to something deep in his gut. Sylvain's arm snakes round his waist again as if he was feeling the very same thing, because of _course _he was feeling the very same thing.

Looking up into the only pair of eyes he'll ever let see into his soul he realizes that this bittersweet memory-laden place might technically be his 'home', but Sylvain is where his heart is.


End file.
